


A Day at a Time

by EtLaBete



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining Poe Dameron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtLaBete/pseuds/EtLaBete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe doesn't realize it until the Millennium Falcon lands on Jakku and Finn and Rey are embracing in the middle of his hanger, but then it clicks, and well... Poe is kriffin' screwed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love this pairing. A lot. That being said, I definitely don't know much about the Star Wars universe. Let me know if I got anything wrong. 
> 
> Please enjoy! :)

Poe doesn’t realize it until the day the Millennium Falcon lands in the hanger.

The day before, though, starts like any normal day— or, what counts for normal these days. Poe wakes after about half an hour of BB-8 beeping incessantly that he’s a lazy bum; he washes up and he’s barely dressed, still stumbling around the clutter of his room, when there’s a knock at the door. He blearily slams his palm against the panel next to it until the door slides open, and there’s Finn, beaming and rocking on his heels.

“Good morning,” Finn states. “I’m hungry. Hurry it up, Dameron.” 

Poe just grunts and continues searching for his boots.

They make their way to the mess hall and Finn is elated because they’re serving hotcakes. They’re not great hotcakes. Just passable, really, but as long as it’s not a protein slurry, which is what he drank the entire time he was laid up in the medbay, Finn’s excited because— well, Finn appreciates the things most of them don’t even think about anymore. Finn likes that he can sleep in or wake up early, likes that he can sneak a snack midday even though he’s just had lunch, likes that he can pop into the hanger whenever he isn’t busy talking shop with Admiral Ackbar and the Intelligence unit.

Like most mornings, they settle down with full trays next to Pava, Snap, and a few of the other pilots, except they’re barely a few bites into their meal when the PA crackles to life and squeals, silencing the chatter of the mess hall. 

The General’s static-laced voice states, _The Millennium Falcon has made contact._

This in itself isn’t out of the ordinary. Rey’s comm messages have been coming more and more frequently within the last month. What is unusual, though, is that the General’s addressing the entire base, not just Finn in privacy because they’re almost always for Finn. Poe’s stomach swoops downwards. 

_They will be arriving tomorrow morning at roughly nine-hundred hours._

The silence lasts all of three seconds, and then the mess erupts in a cacophony of howls and whoops and laughter. They’ve been waiting for this, for Skywalker’s return, for so very long, and a large part of Poe is relieved. This might be the beginning of the end, and he doesn’t know what he’ll be if he isn’t a pilot for the Resistance, but damn, everyone who’s anyone— Dark, Light, and in between— has been looking for this man for decades. 

Poe’s relieved, and yet something curdles in his stomach as he watches Finn smile like nothing’s ever been so good. 

***

The next morning, when they get word that the Falcon’s come through the atmosphere, Finn grabs his hand, his palm already sweaty, and all but drags Poe to the hanger. It looks like every damned person on base is crowded around the landing strip. Poe is tempted to hang back, but Finn weaves his way through them, Poe still dangling from his fingertips, and Poe… well, Poe follows. 

Poe’s starting to realize he’d probably follow Finn anywhere. Bad timing, he tells himself, and squeezes Finn’s hand a little tighter before finally letting go. 

They all watch with bated breath as the ship lands. The ramp lowers so slowly it’s almost painful. 

And then there’s Rey.

The moment she comes into view, Finn pushes past Poe and everyone else and dashes towards her. When she sees him, the stoic, nervous expression that purses her lips and creases the skin between her eyebrows loosens. She smiles with her whole face, the same way Finn does, and then she rushes towards him the last few paces. 

Chewbacca walks down the ramp after her, shaking his head, and he’s accompanied by a bearded, grizzled man in a robe that can only be Luke Skywalker. Everyone’s focused on him as he and the General embrace, but all Poe can do is stare at Finn as he lifts Rey clear off the ground and spins her, and suddenly, Poe knows. 

He _knows_ , and he’s kriffin’ screwed. 

Poe watches for a few seconds more, following the movement of their lips as they talk fervently, hands gripping arms and cheeks tinged pink, and then he slips back through the crowd as they surge around the newcomers. He needs some air— if everyone wasn’t jam-packed into his hanger, he would be in his X-wing already, flying over the D’qar jungles to clea this head— but he makes do with what he has, and he’s almost free of all the people watching Finn and Rey embrace like long-lost lovers when a hand wraps around his wrist.

“Leaving so soon?” Pava asks, a glint in her eye.

“Yeah,” Poe replies dumbly. 

Pava stares at him for several moments, blinking slowly, and then she nods, clapping him on the shoulder with her free hand. “You finally figured it out, huh?” 

Poe can feel the blood drain from his face. “I don’t—“ 

“I think Iolo won the bet,” she mutters to herself. “What a load of bantha shit. You couldn’t have had your moment in, like, a week? I put fifty credits on this.”

“A bet?” Poe demands, still bewildered. “You made a bet?”

“To be fair,” Pava says with a shit-eating grin, “we watched you moon at him for weeks before we actually made the bet.”

Poe scrubs a hand over his face. “I can’t believe this.” 

Pava’s squeezes his shoulder. “Go get ‘em, Boss.” 

A laugh is startled out of Poe. “What? No—“

“Poe!”

He and Pava both turn to see Finn walking quickly towards them, Rey in tow. Their hands are linked. Something in Poe’s chest pangs and turns his gut sour, and Poe’s horrified to realize that it’s jealousy. _Jealousy_. Poe Dameron, jealous. He wants to run away because even if Finn doesn’t notice, he can see the understanding dawn on Pava’s face, and he’s a little humiliated. 

“Were you leaving already?” Finn asks, eyebrows drawn together and mouth tilted in a frown. “Is everything okay?”

“I had some stuff for him to check out,” Pava offers before Poe can bother stumbling over an excuse. “I figured with everything going on, he wouldn’t be missed.” She looks past Finn, gaze landing on Rey. “Hi, you must be Rey. I’m Jessika Pava, pilot extraordinaire. Great to meet you. We didn’t cross paths before you left, but Finn’s told us a ton about you.” 

“Nice to meet you, too,” Rey says with a smile, but her eyes immediately slip to Poe. 

“Rey, this is Poe,” Finn begins, basically bouncing on his toes.

“We met, actually,” Poe supplies and forces a roguish smile in place. “Briefly before she left and we were both vying to sit at your bedside. I can’t believe I forgot to mention it.” 

Rey studies him, unblinking, for several moments. “It’s good to see you again, Commander Dameron,” she finally says, and reaches out with her free hand, the other still tucked into Finn’s. 

“Poe is fine,” he manages, still smiling, and takes her hand in a firm shake. It’s tiny and as calloused as his own, so much unlike Finn’s hands, and he thinks that in a different situation, the two of them could be good friends. “Any friend of Finn’s is a friend of mine, and my friends call me Poe. Glad you made it safely back.” 

Rey’s tilts her head to the side and offers a smile in return, and Finn just beams, but all Poe can think about is the way the two of them are _still holding hands_ as he lets go of Rey’s. 

“All right, Commander Flyboy, let’s go,” Pava says, breaking the silence that’s slowly turning awkward. “We’ll see you both in debrief in a bit.” 

“Okay,” Finn says, his smile dimming a bit. “Poe. You’re sure you’re okay?” 

_I don’t know_ , Poe wants to say, but instead he offers a one-fingered salute and says, “Yeah, buddy, I’m good. Catch you soon.” 

Pava loops her arm through the crook of Poe’s elbow and winks at Rey and Finn before she pivots Poe and all but drags him down the hall. Poe almost pulls away, but hell, part of him is childish, so he lets her stay close, knowing that Finn and Rey are watching them leave arm in arm. 

“We’ll take it a day at a time,” Pava finally offers when they’re near the pilots’ quarters. 

“Hell,” Poe sighs, and Pava just tsks next to him.

***

The General stands next to Luke Skywalker in the Map Room, and she looks livelier than Poe’s seen her in the months surrounding Han Solo’s death. Any residual icy jealousy left over from this morning’s interaction with Finn and Rey melts, but there’s still a sickness twisting his gut as he glances at the two of them across the room, standing side by side, shoulders brushing.

He and Finn lock eyes for a moment, and Poe raises his brows and smiles before he looks away. 

***

“Poe,” the General calls as he’s filing out of the room with everyone else. He looks over his shoulder to see her ushering him back, Luke Skywalker, Finn, Rey, and a few of the other high ranking officials standing around her. 

Poe takes in a deep breath, puts on a smile, and approaches, carefully avoiding Finn’s gaze. 

“I want to formally introduce you to my brother, Luke,” the General continues. “Luke, this is Poe Dameron, the pilot I sent to Jakku.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Luke says, nodding. He studies Poe for a few seconds, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, before he offers, “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“The pleasure is mine, sir, but I’m sure I’ve heard more about you.” Poe replies as he bows his head in respect. 

“You obviously didn’t sit in on the holocalls,” Luke murmurs with a smirk.

To the side, Rey snorts and Finn says, “Oh my gods.” 

Poe turns his head. Finn is pointedly looking at the floor, and Rey has a very smug smile on her face. He turns back to Luke and the General. “Did I miss something?”

“Finn was very detailed in outlining his friends on base,” the General supplies kindly.

Poe’s heart rate kicks up speed at the inference, and he tries to ignore it as he shrugs with as must nonchalance as he can muster. “Then he must have told you about one of my pilots, Jessika Pava. I think she’d give up her X-Wing to meet you personally.” 

Luke’s lips twitch. “Of course. Anything for the best pilot in the resistance.”

The General doesn’t even try to hide her laugher. Poe feels blood pooling in his cheeks and ears, and he ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck. “Well, now that you’re here—“

“You haven’t seen Rey fly,” Luke says. “I’m too old to pilot a ship, but she may steal the title from you yet.”

Any words prepared to come out of Poe’s mouth turn to ash on his tongue. 

“I look forward to the challenge,” he says, as chipper as he can, and smiles over his shoulder at Rey, whose expression is closed off as she studies him with that narrowed gaze, like she’s assessing him for parts. 

“Luckily for you, Commander, she has other training that will take presence,” Luke chuckles. 

“Lucky for me, indeed,” Poe smirks. 

***

There’s a celebration that evening in the mess to welcome Luke Skywalker to the base, except the celebration is as much for him as it is for the rest of them. Nearly everyone attends, and the space is too small for the turnout, but they make due because this may be the last time for a long time that they get to enjoy themselves so freely. Luke’s arrival is paramount to the war with the First Order, so there’s an undercurrent of hope that hasn’t been there for a long while, but his arrival is also a harbinger of hard times to come. 

And Poe, like all of the pilots, enjoys a good party. 

Music blares over the staticky speakers, the normal evening meal quality is ramped up a few notches, kegs of lager are tapped, and bottles of hard liquor float around from hand to hand. Poe sits in the back of the mess, comfortably warm after a few glasses of beer. He feels less sick than he did earlier, or the floaty feeling of alcohol seeping through his system just masks it. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it’s stomped down for now and he can enjoy a night of revelry before they all have to get back to work. 

Snap hands him another beer and then plops down on his left, Pava already taking over the spot to the right of him, and the three of them watch the crowd of people laughing and drinking. 

“I haven’t danced,” Pava says thoughtfully in between sips of her own drink, “in a really long time.”

“People want pretty partners, Jess,” Snap explains stoically. “That’s why no one asks you to dance at these kinds of things.” 

She ignores him. “We never have a reason to dance anymore, you know? When was the last time there was a party like this?” 

Poe hands Snap back the glass he hasn’t started drinking from yet, stands, and holds out his hand to Pava. “I don’t need a pretty partner. Let’s do it.” 

Snap laughs into his beer and starts coughing, but Pava stares up at him, eyes wide. “Really?” 

Poe raises a brow, hands on his hips. “Let’s go, Blue Three, before I change my mind.” 

Pava grins and jumps up, nearly spilling her beer all over Snap’s lap in her rush to set it down, and Poe laughs delightedly. Poe puts one hand on her waist and grabs the other and immediately starts to twirl her around the small area of empty space. Pava is as light on her feet as she seems in her X-Wing, keeping pace with Poe without a problem, and she laughs the entire time as her dark hair whips around them and clings to her sweaty temples. 

Poe spins her out at arms length, the both of them grinning, and then reels her back in just as Rey and Finn break through the line of bodies. 

The two of them stand shoulder to shoulder. Rey looks confused, almost, her lips pursed and her brows knitted together, but Finn’s expression is soft, and Poe doesn’t know what to make of that. He’s saved from having to roll it around his brain by Pava, who waves at them with the hand not wrapped in Poe’s.

“Please, sit and watch these two make fools of themselves,” Snap calls, toasting them with his beer. 

“It looks fun,” Finn comments, smiling. “I’ve never danced before. We didn’t have, you know, celebrations like this. Or dancing.”

“We can teach you,” Pava offers, and Poe thinks he’s the only one who notices her very well-hid grimace when he squeezes her hand. “It’s not hard.” 

“My teaching skills begin and end with flying,” Poe says with a snort. “I can get you both a drink, though, while Pava regales you with her dancing wisdom.”

Finn frowns, but he says, “Okay.”

Poe and Pava disentangle, and she gives him a withering look that screams, I gave you an open, you idiot, but he ignores it. He heads towards the crowd, but as he’s walking past the Finn and Rey, Rey’s fingers curl around the crook of his elbow. He stops dead, and slowly turns to look down at her. 

“I can help you. Retrieve drinks, I mean,” she says, then shrugs, one eyebrow arched. “There’s no way I’m learning to dance. I spend most of my time learning these days.” 

Poe stares at her for a few seconds, then chuckles— he hopes in a carefree manner—and says, “Yeah, I get it. This way, then.”

Rey stays close as they weave through the crowd even though she doesn’t keep hold of Poe’s arm, not like she does with Finn. Poe tries not to read into it, which is turning into his new hobby outside of flying. He thinks, at the very least, that he understands what the two of them have. Bonds are formed in situations like theirs, being thrown together in very extraordinary circumstances. Maybe it would have been different if Poe and Finn weren’t separated on Jakku, but they were, and reunited or not, he thinks he missed his chance for that same connection. Rey is beautiful and smart and a damned good pilot, apparently, and if she’s strong with the Force— well, Poe knows when he’s beat, and he’s not about to fight a losing battle. 

It still jabs him in the chest all the same, though.

The kitchen is as jam-packed as the rest of the mess, so the two of them wait in the slowly moving line. Rey looks around, ever-curious and assessing her surroundings, and then her gaze lands on him.

Poe does not like that look. It’s the same look her gets from Pava when she’s being a calculating, nosy piece of bantha shit. 

“Finn seems well,” Rey comments, brushing an errant strand of hair from her face. “I was concerned, when I left him here in the state he was in, but you’ve done well by him.”

“He had a great med team,” Poe begins, but Rey steps forward into his personal space, the toes of her boots touching his. She has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact, but even that position lends her an air of dominance. Poe has half a mind to step back.

“I don’t mean his med team,” she says, slowly, like she has to annunciate for him to understand. “I mean you.”

Poe just blinks. “Well, he’s my friend. Of course I wanted to do well by him. I mean, I owe him a lot. I’d be dead or worse if it wasn’t for him. I mean, hell, I owe both of you for bringing BB-8 back to me, for being willing to put a hand in this fight that wasn’t necessarily your fight yet.” 

“Is that all it is?” she asks, a downward turn to her mouth. 

“All what is?” 

“You treat him the way you do because you owe him and because he’s your friend. Is that all it is?”

What she’s actually asking him feels like a punch to the gut, and Poe flushes. Suddenly, the warmth left behind by the beer is almost too much. “I don’t know what you mean,” he lies. 

“I think you do,” she replies gently. “So tell me, then, _is that all_?” 

Poe huffs out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t know what to do with his damned hands, actually, but he’s having a hard time keeping still, so he shoves them in his pockets. Rey just stares at him expectantly, and Poe doesn’t know what to say. He’s literally only figured it out for himself this morning, and yet Rey, on-planet for a grand total of twelve hours, already has his designation. 

“I’m not going to stand in your way, if that’s what you’re asking,” he murmurs.

A few different expressions flit across Rey’s face, including confusion and surprise, but they slip away to laughter, and Poe sees the same bright grin on her face that was directed at Finn this morning.

He kind of wants to punch it, but he holds himself back because there are people turning to look at them, that’s how loud she’s laughing. What he might actually do is walk into the D’Qar jungle without any survival gear in the hopes that the elements or wildlife take him quickly. 

“You think—?” She continues laughing and shakes her head.

“I’m glad you find this funny,” he snaps. “I’m really glad.” 

She bites her lips to stop the laughter, and when it’s under control, she lays that look on him again. The line for beer moves forward, but they don’t, except no one says anything, they just carefully and slowly step around them. 

“I love Finn,” Rey finally says quietly, a smile still playing on her lips. “I do, I love him. More than I’ve loved in a very long time.” She pauses and adds, “Just not the way you think.” 

Poe heart beats like a damned jakrab. “But he—“

“Not the way you think,” she repeats, her smile growing a tiny bit wider. “I understand now, at least. Why you looked like you wanted to grab your blaster when he introduced us. Poor Finn is beside himself, you know. He wants us to get along very badly.”

Poe released his hands from the confines of his pockets so he can pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m no good at this.”

“You could teach him how to dance,” Rey says with a shrug. 

Poe stares down at her. “You’re as bad as Pava.” 

Rey just continues to grin, her bottom lip between her teeth, and they finally move with the line. 

***

By the time they get back to the group, any attempts to learn how to dance have been thwarted. Finn smacks a hand over Pava’s mouth every time she tries to say something about it, and even in the low light of the mess, Poe can tell his cheeks are flushed. 

“He was a natural,” Pava manages when Finn is taking the glass of beer Rey offers him, and he spills it all over his hand when he jerks around and presses his palm to her lips again.

Pava promptly licks his hand, cackles when Finn draws back like he’s been bitten, and easily dodges his attempts to wipe it on her shirt. 

Rey just laughs delightedly, eyes sparkling as she watches Finn alternate between humor and frustration, except Poe doesn’t miss the sidelong glances she angles Poe’s way. He ignores the looks as best he can, half-listening to whatever story Snap is telling them as he slowly sips his beer, but hard as he might try, he can’t ignore Finn. He’s painfully aware of the man’s body language now, and it’s making him nervous. 

Poe Dameron, the best pilot in the resistance, a man who survived physical torture at the hands of the First Order and and mental torture at the hand of Kylo Ren, is nervous over this. 

_I will conquer this_ , he tells himself. 

***

It’s late when everyone starts to file out of the mess. Pava is dead asleep, leaning against Snap’s shoulder with her mouth open, and Snap has to basically drag her to her feet and pinch her a few times to dredge up enough consciousness for her to walk. He could carry her himself, but Poe uses the excuse of her inebriety to duck out with the two of them. 

“Will you come back?” Finn asks.

“I’m probably going to call it a night,” Poe says, clapping Finn on the shoulder. “I’m too old to stay out this late, buddy. Need my beauty rest.”

Finn nods and smiles. “Okay. I’ll get you for breakfast, though?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Sleep well. ‘Night, Rey.” 

Rey just offers a smirk and a little wave, and Poe is amazed as how judged he feels by such minute gestures. 

Poe loops an arm around Pava’s waist, taking some of the weight from Snap, and they all but drag Pava back to the pilot’s quarters. Poe doesn’t linger and lets Snap lock up after they get her into bed. He makes his way to his own quarters, where BB-8 beeps at him from it’s docking station.

“Yeah, I had a good time, buddy,” he says quietly.

BB-8 beeps again and then powers back down. 

Poe kicks off his boots, changes into his sleep clothes, and lays on the bed. The ceiling is a stretch of comfortable blackness above him. Poe closes his eyes anyway. He’s got a slight headache from too much beer and not enough water, but it’s not bad enough to keep him awake. He’s slept through worse since his stint on Starkiller, or didn’t sleep at all when he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing that damned mask.

This feels different, though. 

It’s not long before he’s pulling his boots back on and making his way to the hanger. 

The bay doors are closed, of course, but Poe doesn’t really need to see the sky. He mostly just wants the comfort offered by the X-Wings lined up and the smell of grease and engine fluid that lingers in the air. He settles down on the dirty floor and leans against the wheel of his bird. It’s a little chilly, but he just crosses his arms over his chest and closes his eyes. 

“This feels better,” he sighs. 

“What does?” 

Poe starts and whacks his head on the wheel before he swivels around to find Finn standing there, hands in the pockets of Poe’s old jacket. Finn raises his eyebrows, a small smile playing on his lips, but Poe can’t make out much more of his expression in the dim lighting of the otherwise quiet hanger. 

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” Poe demands with an embarrassed laugh. 

“Why would I want to do that?” Finn replies and takes a few steps forward. “Did you want to be alone, or are you okay with company?”

Poe struggles with that for a moment. On one hand, of course he wants Finn nearby. On the other, he’s not sure what nonsense will spill out of his mouth right now.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Finn says and retraces his steps backwards.

“No, no, join me,” Poe says hastily, motioning towards the open space to his right. “Still a bit slow from the alcohol, that’s all.”

“From the alcohol?” Finn directs one of his grins Poe’s way before he closes the distance between them and lowers himself to the ground. 

They sit there silently, staring out at the rows of X-Wings, and Poe thinks that maybe he could be fine with this. He wants Finn in a way he hasn’t wanted anyone, and even if he can’t have him the that way, he has Finn this way. The other man sits close, close enough that their shoulders and thighs brush and just having him there quiets the anxiety buzzing around in Poe’s brain. The tension in his shoulders slips away, and he leans a little more heavily against this ship. 

“I’m glad you and Rey had a chance to talk,” Finn says quietly, breaking the silence. “I want you to be friends. You both mean a lot to me.”

“I’m sorry I was acting a little weird,” Poe admits, “but she and I are good.”

“Why were you? Acting weird.” 

Poe choses his words very carefully because he doesn’t want to tell the whole truth, but he doesn’t want to lie to Finn, either. “I was feeling replaceable, I think. I mean, the lady’s a Jedi. How do I compare with that? I’m just some pilot, you know?”

He says it in a way that’s supposed to denote it as a joke, but Finn angles his entire body towards Poe and fixes him with a glare that makes Poe’s stomach clench. 

“You are not replaceable,” Finn states roughly. “Nothing could replace you, Poe. Nothing.”

Poe’s glad that he didn’t get drunk at the festivities or he’s pretty sure all the rational thoughts in his head stopping him from kissing Finn would have been out the hangar doors by now. As it is, he has to clench his fists to stop from smoothing the determined creases on Finn’s forehead as he frowns. 

“Thanks, buddy,” he says and forces a smile.

Finn’s frown deepens. “Stop that. Stop smiling at me like that when you don’t mean it.”

Poe blinks, taken aback. “I’m not—“

“You are,” Finn interrupts, and the worry shines through in the way his Adam’s apple bobs. “You are smiling that way. I can _tell_ , Poe. Did I do something wrong?”

“No! You didn’t do anything wrong! _Kriff_.” Poe runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”

They sit in silence, Finn still staring at him and Poe staring past him at the wall, for several moments, before Finn finally reaches out and rests a hand on Poe’s shoulder. He squeezes until Poe looks at him, the weight of his hand heavy and warm. 

“You can talk to me,” Finn says with a sharp nod. “About anything, Poe. You have been there for me, and I want to be there for you.” 

Poe stares at him, and something inside of him snaps, something that feels a lot like self preservation. The backlash of it rushes through his chest like a TIE fighter, and at the same time that he thinks, _fuck it_ , he blurts, “Fine. I think I’m in love with you.”

Finn’s hand stays where it is, gripping almost too tightly now. His mouth is open slightly and his eyes are wide and dark. Poe wishes the light wasn’t so poor, wishes he could see all the details of Finn’s expressive face. Or maybe he doesn’t, because Finn doesn’t look happy. 

Poe feels like he might be sick. 

After a few moments of silence, Finn says, “What? You’re what?” 

It’s not the reaction Poe hoped for, but he isn’t going to let it crush him. He refuses to let his own feelings take front seat, not with Finn, not after everything the younger man’s been through. “You heard me,” he says quietly and shrugs. “It’s okay if you don’t reciprocate, Finn. It really is. You’re just— you’re an amazing person, all right? And you should know that—“

The hand on Poe’s shoulder migrates to the side of his face, and then Finn kisses him so hard the back of Poe’s head whacks against his wheel again. He’s pretty sure there’s going to be a lump, a nice bruise and a headache to boot, but more importantly, Finn’s mouth is warm and he tastes like lager. Poe doesn’t move, can’t bring himself to, and he’s pretty sure the burning smell must be his brain frying.

Finn exhales Poe’s name against his lips, a short little sigh, and Poe snaps out of it as all the blood in his body rushes south. He grips Finn’s arms, pushes him far enough away so that he can see his face, but close enough that he can still feel Finn’s short breaths on his lips. 

“What are you doing?” Poe croaks.

“Kissing you,” Finn replies, like it’s the dumbest question Poe’s ever asked. He cocks his head to the side. “I didn’t mishear you, right?”

Poe shakes his head. “No, but you— you don’t—“

“I do,” Finn says, voice softening. 

Poe just stares at him. “You never said anything.” 

“Neither did you,” Finn shoots back.

“I didn’t even _realize_ until Rey—“

“Rey?” Finn laughs, teeth gleaming white. “Rey?”

Poe’s nostrils flare. “Yes, Rey!”

“I love Rey,” Finn says, thumb stroking Poe’s cheekbone, “but not like that. Not like you. I just didn’t think that— that you— how could you? With me?”

Poe exhales, “hell,” and then leans forward, his forehead pressed to Finn’s. “How could I? What a dumb question.”

“You’re dumb,” Finn mumbles back, but he’s grinning as he nudges Poe’s nose with his own until Poe tilts his head. Finn kisses him again, slow and sweet, and when Poe opens his mouth to run his tongue against Finn’s plump bottom lip, the younger man gasps. He pulls back after a moment and says, rather diplomatically despite his quickened breaths, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Poe laughs this time, his arms looping around Finn’s waist. “You’re doing fine, buddy.” 

***

They go to breakfast the next morning the way they always do, BB-8 rolling at their heels, and they stop to get Rey on their way to the mess. She greets the droid first, stooping down to pat it’s head, then stands straight and smiles brightly at the two of them.

“Good morning,” she says, then starts walking towards the mess, BB-8 keeping pace next to he. “I wonder what breakfast will be like here, BB. Master Luke can’t cook worth anything, and I was used to the ration packets on Jakku.”

BB-8 chirps it’s reply. 

Poe stares after them for a few seconds and wonders if she’s just playing coy, or if her Force-fueled intuition is off today. He only turns away when Finn brushes his fingers against the back of Poe’s hand.

“Okay?” Finn asks.

“Oh, yeah.” Poe grins. “Definitely okay.”

No one says anything, at first. Pava complains rather loudly about her alcohol-induced headache, and she drinks her caf and then steals Snap’s, who allows it. She’s about ready to nab what remains in Poe’s cup when she makes eye contact with him. They stare at each other for several seconds before Pava’s eyes follow the line of his body where it presses against Finn’s. 

“You finally told him,” she says, and the miserable look on her face transforms into one of pure, mischievous glee. “You finally said something. About kriffin’ time! I mean, I said we’d take it a day at a time, but I didn’t mean actually just a single day.”

Poe, gods help him, blushes, and Finn just grins.

Rey smiles into her porridge, BB-8 cheering beneath the table.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic for a friend of mine and sent it to her via email, since she isn't on AO3. HOWEVER, she does read fics on here, so... Kiki, if you find this, please note that I might die if you read the rest of my fanfic. If you don't care about me remaining on this mortal coil and read it anyway... at least I will die knowing it's no where near as bad as the Phanfic I wrote years ago and allowed you to read. XD


End file.
